


Reunited

by Anonymous



Category: Ring of Honor
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 11:30:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19767289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Dalton is forced to face the consequences of his actions.





	Reunited

It's a struggle, waking up and not having the Boys by his side. Going to the arenas alone, no soft hands on his or gentle voices in his ear as he faces yet another lengthy flight to whatever event is on the agenda this time.  
  
But it's not until Dalton is walking down the halls at ROH a few weeks after his betrayal of them and he sees them-- in fresh, black gear that immediately leaves his mouth dry as he gawks at them-- that he realizes just how much he's missed them, despite knowing this is best for all of them. The Boys are free to focus on their own careers, and he's finally, finally been able to end his losing streak. He knows he should move, shouldn't be spotted like this, but before he can convince his body to turn, Brent looks up and freezes, their eyes locking.  
  
Dalton swallows hard, shakes his head slightly. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he mumbles, finally turning sharply and trying to head back the way he came. He's only taken a few steps, however, when he hears running footsteps behind him and instinctively stops, closing his eyes. He expects an attack, the Boys to hit, kick, brutalize him with any number of weapons scattered around, as payback for the horrible way he'd ended things with them. "Do what you must," he says, stretching his arms out and waiting for the pain, the vicious sensation of deserving every second of agony to come.  
  
But instead, there's a soft shifting, the Boys are whispering amongst themselves, and then arms curl around him, pulling him into warmth and affection and he shudders, forcing his eyes open to look down at the Boys currently sandwiching him between them. His eyes well with tears, everything suddenly looking blurry and indistinguishable. "Oh, my sweet boys, what are you doing?" he asks, voice trembling as he wraps his arms back around Brent and tucks him in close, Brandon leaning against his back and loosely kissing his neck and shoulders.  
  
"We miss you," Brent mumbles back.  
  
"And we're so happy you won your match last night," Brandon continues, his teeth softly scraping down Dalton's shoulderblades. "Dalton, please don't push us away... not now..."  
  
"Not ever again," Brent says, voice so shaky that it breaks Dalton's heart to hear how wretched he sounds, tears beginning to pour down his cheeks as he's forced to face what his decisions have caused these two beautiful young men before him.  
  
"If you're sure that's what you want, my pretty boys, despite everything I've done," he says slowly, and the Boys choose to respond by guiding him into a side room, quiet and dark until they walk in and close the door behind them, fumbling for a light switch.   
  
Once it clicks on and they can see, Brent cradles Dalton's face and kisses him solidly. "This is exactly what we want," Brent tells him. "However we can have you. We love you, Dalton. More than you probably realize."  
  
Dalton wants to ask why they're in this unused room but he knows and says nothing, just stands there and watches with dark, hopeful eyes as Brent's hands trail, exploring. "How is your back?" he asks quietly and Dalton smirks a little.  
  
"Stronger every day." Not entirely a lie. The size of his brace is smaller, he's on track to getting closer to where he wants to in wrestling once more, but it's just going to take time and patience.  
  
"Very glad to hear that," Brandon says, still behind Dalton, his mouth easing against Dalton's spine in a way that makes him shiver and swallow down a moan. "We... don't want to hurt you since... it seems making it to a bed is a little beyond all of us right now."   
  
Dalton looks down and finds himself hard and straining against his gear and Brent giggles as he cups Dalton's face and draws him in for another, deep kiss, tongue exploring hungrily as Dalton's hands ease down Brent's body, feeling each muscle, stroking along his new gear. "Oh my God," Dalton gasps, fingers digging into his hips as he struggles to hold it together, still spinning from that kiss. "Off, off," he chants lowly, working the tights down Brent's legs and staring down at his quivering thighs as he eases them off, Brent gripping his shoulders to keep from falling as he lifts one leg, then the next to help Dalton undress him. Once Brent is acceptably naked, Dalton turns to Brandon and stares at him. Brandon is still kissing and tasting every inch of Dalton that he can reach, his mouth currently sealed between his pecs, and Dalton would happily let him continue, but...  
  
"Please," Dalton whispers to him and he pulls away, an unhappy gleam in his eye even as Dalton begins to touch his gear, maneuvering it down his thighs as well. He helps to kick it off and swallows hard, staring up at the ceiling, when Dalton eases in and presses wide, sucking kisses to the inside of Brandon's thighs, staining his skin a dark red with a smug look in his eyes, before he turns to Brent. Brent lets out a shuddering whine as Dalton descends upon his thighs, quickly marking him as well. But he doesn't move then, just continues to nuzzle between Brent's legs, breathing him in, reverently touching his thighs, the backs of his knees, even trails his tongue along Brent's slick, throbbing flesh, lingering by the tip and diligently licking it clean while listening to his soft, pleading cries overhead.  
  
"I-- I'm not--" Brent moans, hard, his entire body shuddering, and Dalton stares up at him. He'd always been so much more sensitive than Brandon, so easy to get off, and it's been so long, he's not surprised that even the smallest amount of attention almost has him tipping over the edge.  
  
"There's a couch," Brandon says slowly, cutting into their thoughts, and Dalton looks away from Brent, his low, anguished sob at the sudden loss of Dalton's warm, gentle mouth, twists something deep in Dalton's abdomen.   
  
Ideas fusing together in his brain suddenly, Dalton stands up right and trails his thumb over his trunks, barely getting it past his hem when the Boys are right there, swatting him away. Brent eases everything down his legs-- knee braces, trunks, even his boots go all at the same time, and Brandon supports him as he kicks it away, breathing a little shaky as cool air teases up his thighs, along his erection. Causing him to throb harder as he stares at his Boys. "Come," he says tenderly, cradling Brent's face and leading him over to the worn down, but serviceable sofa Brandon had observed.  
  
Brent sprawls out, young and handsome, and offering it all to Dalton as he bends one leg at the knee, easing his legs apart to offer more room for whatever Dalton may choose to do for him. Dalton swallows, hard, his eyes trailing over every rippling muscle as Brent pants for breath, sweat glistening down his flesh. "God, my Boys, you will be the death of me," he says aloud. He eases back down on his knees and runs his hands along Brent's thighs, feeling him twitch and tense up under his fingers, lips parting as he moans and gasps softly.  
  
"Dal-- Dalton," he says desperately. "Please..." He keeps arching into Dalton's touch, as if he thinks that will make the eccentric man turn his attention to where he thinks Dalton should be focused. He cries out when Dalton's fingers brush, ever so teasingly, along his erection, but before he could start to beg and plea, Dalton has him by the hips and he's guiding him to the edge of the couch, Dalton's tongue following the same, torturous path his fingers had. Along his thighs, over his hips, before trailing up the side, licking up every drip that he's missed since moving.  
  
"You taste so good, Brent," Dalton breathes out slowly. "So good..." His tongue explores, swirling around Brent's tip, down the sides, pressing against the underside of his erection. Brandon is behind Dalton, hands splayed out over Dalton's back, but Dalton doesn't respond, trusting his Boys more than anyone else in his life. Still, he almost chokes against Brent when something slick and wet presses against him, licking lazily into him. His nails bite into Brent's thighs and Brent groans hungrily. Brent has always been so, so good at receiving everything Dalton has to give, but Brandon... Brandon is a revelation with his tongue and his hands, and Dalton feels fire streaking through his veins as he's licked open, stretched by Brandon's tongue. "Oh my-- my God," he exhales, voice highpitched and shaky. "Br-- Brandon..."  
  
He'd forgotten how good all of this was, their little triangle of intimacy, one twin falling apart under his hands while the other took him repeatedly to the edge. If only, if only wrestling wasn't so cutthroat, if only they could've always been together... but it's best for their careers for them to be apart right now. If you love something, let it go, he thinks, hands trembling as he mindlessly strokes at Brent's thighs, if it comes back to you... His thoughts stutter to a stop as Brandon reaches around, fingers curling around his erection and he moans desperately, back arching and hips thrusting up as he falls apart in Brandon's hand, coating both Boys as pleasure claims him.   
  
When he drifts back to reality, Brent's fingers are gentle in his hair, petting and stroking along his forehead, and he realizes he's still hard against Dalton's tongue. He hums, smirking when Brent moans at the vibrations against his erection, and takes advantage of how loose and plaible he feels since his orgasm to take Brent in deeper, breathing shallowly through his nose as Brent gasps and hisses out Dalton's name, Dalton's hands still gripping his thighs, thumbs stroking the love marks he'd left on his soft flesh. Brent is clearly fighting not to tug at Dalton's hair as he gets ever closer to the edge, body tense and trembling. "Please," he moans, hitting his head back against the couch. "P--please..." He shivers and Dalton eases his hands up his hips, shifting his position again, feeling Brent slide even deeper into his mouth, his tongue sweeping against his erection once more, and the low, keening cry that comes from Brent's parted lips says it all as his hips stutter and he falls apart, Dalton patiently swallowing until Brent collapses back against the couch, spent, and licking him clean until he twitches, unable to take anymore pressure, so Dalton releases him with a slick noise before sitting back to give him space.  
  
While Brent pants and struggles to regain control of himself, Dalton eases off of his knees and turns to press his back against the couch next to Brent's trembling legs, coming face to face with Brandon, who is trying and failing to look calm, impassive. There's a desperation in his eyes, however, and Dalton casts a cursory glance over his straining body before tsking at him. "Come here, my pretty Boy." Brandon bites his lip and Dalton quirks a finger at him. "Come, come. This just will not do, now will it?" Brandon's so hard it looks painful, and he sighs as Dalton guides him in until he's straddling him. Whereas Brent is understanding and loving, Brandon is a little more cynical, hard to reach. Dalton's attack on them would've only made it worse, so he's slow, careful, as he touches him, staring up into his dark eyes, so similar to his brother's but so different. "Thank you for not running when you saw me," he says quietly, and Brandon shudders.  
  
"Never, Dalton," he says quietly, and Dalton hums in appreciation. "We-- we love you, even if..." His lips part as he swallows down a gasp. "If we don't really understand... wh-- why..."  
  
"I was holding you back," he says honestly, staring up into Brandon's tense, sweaty face. "You Boys both deserve better than some beaten down old man, you deserve to find your wings and soar, and you-- you couldn't do it while shackled to me..."  
  
Brandon leans in, presses his forehead to Dalton's and shudders. "Please," he murmurs. "Please let us come home. I miss home." The island, with the other Boys, where Dalton's peacocks roam free, which hasn't felt like home since Dalton had come back to the sizeable mansion without the twins. Dalton's silence hangs heavy between him and Brandon starts to cry, which Dalton has only seen a handful of times. "Please," he sniffs.   
  
Dalton looks up at Brent to find he too looks on the verge of tears and he swallows hard. "Of course, my sweet Boys. I just thought... you'd prefer space to be on your own, and..." He realizes all over again just how poorly he'd executed this, assuming things for the Boys instead of just asking. Perhaps if he had sat them down, talked it through with them, the attack would've been easier, they would've been aware, neither of them would be looking at him right now like their worlds had shattered to pieces at their feet. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, kissing Brandon, stroking Brent's thigh next to him. "Please, I don't deserve it, but forgive me?"  
  
"Yes," Brent says softly overhead, Brandon nodding breathlessly against Dalton's jaw as he lightly wipes the tears away with his thumbs.  
  
Despite everything, Brandon is still hard and heavy against Dalton's thigh, and Dalton kisses him, brushing his knuckles against the slick, hot flesh as Brandon moans and keens into his mouth. "Da-- Dalton," he whimpers, Dalton gripping his hips and easing up off of the ground. "Wha-- what are you--" Words fail him, his vision whites out as Dalton guides him in, dropping his head back against Brent's thigh as he's slowly filled by Brandon, directing him deeper, timing his thrusts until Brandon comes back to his senses and he starts to take over, Dalton's fingers still clenching his hips as he's stretched, a heady mix of pleasure and pain tensing his spine and leaving him panting against Brent's leg. Brent starts stroking his hair out of his eyes in time with Brandon's thrusts and Dalton groans in appreciation, body needing to get reaccustomed to being treated like this after so many weeks of Dalton being alone.  
  
Brandon drops his head and presses biting kisses to Dalton's stomach, his chest, along his throat, and Dalton grits his teeth, shivering as Brandon's arms cushion under him, changing the angle of his thrusts and Dalton's jaw drops, moans and pleas pouring from them as his hips twitch, arousal pooling deep between his legs. "Oh shit," he hisses, unable to remember the last time he'd hardened so quickly, especially so soon after climaxing. Brandon stares deep into his eyes and Dalton stifles a whimper, trailing his fingers through Brandon's hair, echoing Brent's motions against his own scalp. "I love you, both of you," he whispers. "You're my everything, you always have been, you al-- al... always will be..." He unravels as Brandon shudders and pulses inside of him, waves of pleasure intensifying as they share them, Dalton's muscles clenching around Brandon and milking him more and more, until they both collapse, empty and spent. Brandon buries his face in Dalton's chest as Dalton's head drops onto the cushion next to Brent, keening pants billowing from his lips as he struggles to catch his breath.  
  
Brent tilts over to stretch out behind Dalton, kissing his forehead gently. "We love you too," he whispers. "Please let us come home now. We'll do whatever you want regarding our careers, just... stop keeping us apart, ok? We need you..."  
  
Dalton shivers and nods. "I need you too, Boys," he admits, something difficult for him to give voice to but, he thinks, necessary in this situation. "Please come home with me."  
  
Brent's smile is bright and all-encompassing as he drifts off of the couch and cuddles in next to his brother, Dalton curling his arms around both of them and holding them close. "That's all we've ever wanted," he says softly, leaning in to kiss Dalton.   
  
Dalton nods, feeling exactly the same as things slot back into place for him, and he breathes easier, bracketed by his Boys. As it always should've been.


End file.
